Note: Everyone, welcome to this mismatched collection of writing bits. Where you can witness things that thus far, only has been with Tumblr. So, for the first bit, meet the genderbent version of Tomoko that only lived on Tumblr thus far. Hoshino Tomoya has a really different history in comparison to the pianist you all know.

Sparkle 1: Tomoya and Tomoko

Hoshino Tomoya knew that he wasn't exactly like other boys his age. Even if he had the figure to show for it, it didn't feel right. If anything, just the idea of identifying as male felt…odd.

Sometimes, when he fell asleep, he would get flashes of a different place. Older, happier scenes, where he was a girl going to college and pursuing a STEM degree, all because she wanted to help people back then. He wasn't sure what they exactly were, but it felt like memories of what might've been a different life, where he—back then, she—had a loving boyfriend, amazing family, and an overall great life that had everything set up for her.

Those dreams would always cut off with a loud screech and splashes of red, but he would always wake up before he could think on them more.

The uncomfortable feeling continued when Mom brought out his first work uniform for Nagareboshi Cafe.

"Look, Tomoya-kun! What do you think?" She paraded the butler outfit like it was a grand work of art left behind by the likes of Leonardo Da Vinci or some other great artist, spinning around with it in hand. He held back the urge to snort. "I just finished making this for you! How about you try it on?"

Despite the look of the suit, with its rather simple black bow tie and matching vest, Tomoya didn't feel all that great. It was a nice-looking outfit, sure, but was it really…okay? It didn't seem to go well with him at all, no matter how much he looked over it. But Mom's happy face wasn't something he could simply ignore, especially with that expectant spark in her eye, so he found himself in the dressing room anyways to change into it.

The outfit looked great, but would it be something he could wear everyday at work?

No, one small voice in his head went. It looks alright, but it's not me.

He tried to push the voice back into his head to change, and once he looked himself over in the mirror, the uncomfortable feeling in his chest only grew in intensity.

"Is this…really me?" he voiced quietly.

The only saving grace was the apron tied around his waist—if he twirled in place for a bit, it kinda resembled a skirt. The thought made the weight on his ribs seem a little lighter, at least.

But, no matter how much the thought of a skirt made him feel happy about the situation, it didn't change the fact that society probably wouldn't be as happy as he was. To the world of Konoha, a boy wearing a skirt just seemed to equal sacrilege, or possibly something worse. Even if kimonos in Konoha were unisex, the various differences in pattern and creation only made the gender divide all the more obvious.

He shook his head furiously, not wanting to entertain those ideas.

Torture was bad enough. Social exclusion and discrimination was the lowest of the low. The few times he encountered a homeless person on the streets, ignored by everyone else passing by, only served to leave a sick feeling in his stomach.

If he tried to be what his mind thought he should be, how would people take him then? Right now, he was just a boy that everyone ignored. What would happen if he came out about being a girl?

Just dressing as a girl couldn't possibly fly with how judgemental Konoha citizens seemed to be.

But, that didn't mean those old dreams didn't teach him how to compromise. That girl in those dreams always seemed to know how to work around something, at least whenever she wasn't stressed.

He opened his mouth.

"Hey Mom? Think you could add something like a waist cape to this?"

A skirt wasn't possible in this day and age, but at least a waist cape could give him enough of an illusion to believe in it anyways.

The dreams started getting stranger when one night, he found himself standing in a world of white, his only company being a girl his age that shared the same blue eyes as Mom.

"Uhhh," the girl started, lightly playing with a black hair strand. He couldn't help but notice the orange hair ribbon tied around said strand. "No offense intended, but I can't help but ask. Am I dreaming, or do I see another person here?"

"I think we're both dreaming," he said, already inwardly cursing his voice. Thankfully, he had yet to hit puberty, but the deep baritone to his voice really didn't make him feel all the more better. "I see you fidgeting with your hair right now, and you seem to be in front of me."

"…Oh," said the girl, and her hand went to the hem of her skirt instead, lightly playing with it. A closer look made Tomoya realize that she was wearing a variation of the usual kimono, with the bottom part being an actual skirt than the classic folds. And…were the stars on the skirt actually moving?

"That's…interesting," the girl summed up, scratching her cheek. Apparently she didn't notice that she unintentionally echoed his thoughts? "Um…"

He glanced over himself, only to hold back a noise of disgust. A white T-shirt and grey sweatpants—basically nothing in comparison to the girl's attire. This was just great. "Anyways," he said, trying to push the dark coil of jealousy to the back of his head. "Might as well start with introductions, just to get the awkwardness out of the way." He extended a hand towards the girl, only for her to blink at the gesture in almost adorable doe-eyed confusion. "I'm Tomoya. What's your name?"

The girl glanced between his hand and his eyes, inclining her head before smiling, taking his hand a mere second later. "I'm Tomoko. It's nice to meet you, Tomoya-kun."

Tomoko. That sounds like a nice name.

The positivity of that thought persisted even after he woke up, and it was only when he was at the piano again, preparing for another work day that he realized that Tomoko looked like a younger version of Mom. And that the bitter taste in the back of his throat came from her using "-kun" instead of "-chan" with his name.

To drown away his doubts, he went about playing the fastest songs he could muster.

Since then, Tomoko seemed to show up more and more in his dreams, slowly replacing the previous scenes of college life and that girl's stressed attempts at studying for Chemistry. Tomoya wasn't sure what he missed more—dreamless sleep, the scenes of a different world, or having time to himself. Sure, playing piano at Nagareboshi Cafe was great, since he could express his thoughts in ways words couldn't do justice, but it just wasn't enough. People still went to him with expectations in mind, and he had to comply.

Spending time with Tomoko, though, was different.

It started as relative silence, at least until someone started talking.

It all changed with only the second meeting.

The second time they had met up in that white world, Tomoko had sat down onto the ground, motioning to her other side with a pat of her hand.

"How about you sit with me?" she asked, and with the way her high-pitched voice echoed almost cutely in the space, Tomoya couldn't refuse.

He knew that what he felt for Tomoko at that moment wasn't exactly love—since the girl in his previous dreams showed more than enough examples of what that really was. The number of times he had to look away when she shared a kiss with her boyfriend was proof of that. And the hugs. Definitely the hugs.

But there was something else that churned in his stomach whenever Tomoko spoke, or said his name.

Nonetheless, he sat, and found himself staring at his only company as Tomoko shrugged. "Hehe, well, I'm not really sure how to start this, since we just met, but um, Tomoya-kun?"

"Wait, Tomoko-chan," he raised his hand, already feeling the bitterness return to his throat at the sound of the honorific. "Before you go any further, could you just call me "Tomoya"? The "-kun" kinda makes me uncomfortable."

Tomoko's eyes widened to what could be the size of big, blue dinner plates before nodding. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make you feel that way!"

"I-It's okay," he said, waving a hand. That was quick. "I'm guessing it's just a habit for you?"

"Yeah, it is…doesn't give me an excuse for messing up, though." Tomoko nearly squeaked the words out before ducking her head in shame, bangs shading her eyes. "I-I mean, I only know one other guy, and he seems okay with "-kun"..." she trailed off before furiously shaking her head, thankfully missing his wince towards the honorific. "Not the point! So "Tomoya" would be fine, then?"

"Yeah," and finally, the weight on his chest seemed to come off, just a little bit more. "And are you okay with "Tomoko-chan"?"

Tomoko nodded, smiling again. "I guess that settles introductions and all that, huh?"

"Yep," he said, popping the last syllable just because. He wasn't really sure why he did it in the first place, initially brushing it off as a habit of his own, but with the way the last letter made his voice sound all the more higher in pitch, it made the atmosphere seem a little easier to breathe in. "So what were you trying to say before?"

Tomoko blinked again, blue eyes shining with some emotion he couldn't read. "Well…" she trailed off again, turning away to put a hand to her chin in thought. "Hm, we do seem to be meeting up often in these dreams, so I was just thinking about getting to know you better." She smiled again, more hesitantly this time. "Maybe we should play something like 20 Questions, or uhhh…" she paused once more, and Tomoya felt a bead of sweat trail down his jaw with how Tomoko started fidgeting again.

…

"Wow," she said finally. Tomoya tried not to roll his eyes from exasperation as the girl continued in a flat voice. "I was on a roll with something, but forgot the rest of what I was thinking. Shoot."

He leaned back on his hands while looking up towards whatever constituted as the ceiling. Basically, taking in a bunch of blank white with a sigh. "Cat got your tongue, maybe?"

A long pause followed. The first few seconds of silence, Tomoya could bear. But by the time it started rolling into minutes, he found himself getting antsy. "Hey," he said, sitting straight up while trying to hide irritation and worry. "What's wrong?"

When turning to the girl, Tomoya lurched back at the shock clearly showing in Tomoko's eyes. "Tomoya…d-did you just…" she gaped, raising a pointer finger at him that he wasn't sure was confused or judgemental. "Did you just use an American saying?"

More weight piled on his gut. "Wait…American? You…you know?"

"Oh dear," Tomoko said, lowering her hand. "Oh dear, dear, dear."

If Tomoya didn't know any better, the girl sounded like a small, pink piglet as her face turned white. "Tomoya, can you answer this honestly for me, please?"

"Yeah, go ahead," he replied curtly.

"D-Does…does…" Tomoko visibly swallowed. "Does the name "Leo" ring any bells?"

His insides felt like ice. The other girl, the girl who had a boyfriend in his previous dreams, she knew Leo. She loved Leo. So then, how would Tomoko—

"How in all heck do you know that name?" he gaped.

"Oh dear," Tomoko repeated. "Oh my dear god…Tomoya…" her voice shook. "By chance, is your last name…is your last name "Hoshino" too? Are your parents Hoshino Judai and Hoshino Hikari too?"

If there was a time he could turn to stone, it was certainly now. "Shit," he cursed, lowering his head. "Fucking shit. W-We're…we're…"

"You're—you're me," Tomoko breathed, the same hand from before now reaching over, almost as if to grab his hand, before pausing. "You're me…from another universe, or world, right?"

"Wait, wait, wait," he angrily shook his head to the point of his own black hair slapping his face, trying to wipe out any beginning swirls of anger and jealousy to stay calm. "Before we confirm that, just—just let me ask my own question."

Tomoko lowered her hand, eyes still wide while nodding.

"Okay, don't freak." Because freaking out like I am right now is only going to make this worse. Still, Tomoya opened his mouth and said it. "Do you have memories of being a girl who went to college and wanted to be a doctor?"

"Vy," Tomoko breathed, and the stone in his stomach finally settled to the point where Tomoya felt like he wanted to throw up. "18 years old, Southern Vietnamese heritage, had an older brother who wanted to be a filmmaker, all of that?"

"Fuck," Tomoya said simply. "Just…fuck."

She's me if I was actually born as a girl.

The thought rang many bells in his head, and despite the air being thick, his heart suddenly felt lighter.

She's who I was meant to be.

Wait…what?

"Wow," Tomoko said finally. He looked up only to see another smile, a bit brighter and hesitant all at once. "So…Mama and Papa over there named you, "Tomoya"—the "wise one"?"

Even if the tone was teasing, Tomoya didn't feel all that happy. "Tomoko sounds better," he muttered, glancing away stubbornly. Rub in the cuter name, go ahead. "Friendly child is better than "wise," sheesh." He sighed.

Tomoko blinked before reaching over again, and despite hesitating, she grabbed his hand in hers, and he jumped. Why was it so soft? "Tomoya, by chance…" Tomoko gulped again, and Tomoya didn't miss how the air grew thicker. "Did you want to be a girl? Are you not happy being a boy?"

How did she read my mind?

Tomoya turned to gape at her, just as the cogs in his head started to turn.

The black bobcut, the orange hair ribbon, the star-covered kimono dress.

All of those things were things his dreams originally kept coming back to. Even when Vy was the focus, the fact that living her life as a girl, even in dreams, made him happy. Free. All the more real.

Tomoko is me if I got to be who I really wanted to be.

Who I was meant to—

Tomoya didn't even realize tears were streaming down his face until Tomoko started to wipe at them carefully with a handkerchief.

By then, he knew. Tomoko was radiant—sparkling— because of who she was. How she was so comfortable with herself, so open to where the gestures she was making now made his heart more lighter and heavier all at once.

Tomoko was the self he could've been in another world, another life—had he been able to express himself properly.

What could he take—use to get that same chance?

"I'm sorry," Tomoko said gently, breaking him—her out of her thoughts. "I didn't meant to push. I'll see if I can help you transition if you want to. You do live in Konoha, right?"

"Y-Yeah," Tomoya laughed softly, and the sound felt almost tingly in his—her throat as the emotion made it sound all the more feminine. All the more right. "Yeah. Mom still makes our clothes for the cafe as always."

Tomoko smiled softly while continuing to wipe away at the tears with one hand, her other going to Tomoya's hair to lightly brush it out of her face. "And you haven't encountered any discrimination for being you yet, right?"

"N-No," Tomoya was surprised at how quick the answer left her lips. The voice that originally defined her as a "him" was also starting to change, sounding a bit more high-pitched. If she could say as much, it was starting to echo the girl she should've been—the girl that was caring for her right now. "Not yet."

Tomoko smiled that same soft smile, teeth shining white, and the weight finally came off her chest.

"Well then, Tomoya-chan, let's start with changing what you have at home and go from there. I'll do whatever I can to help. After all—" Tomoko bopped her nose while winking. "You're me, and there's nothing wrong with helping a fellow girl."

Tomoya smiled back in what felt like the first time in years.

Tomoko used "-chan".

She had found a friend.

"…Hey, Mom?"

"Hm?"

"Is there a way to incorporate a skirt into my uniform without it obviously looking like a skirt?"

Hikari smiled. So that was what Tomoya was worried about.

"I have a sewing machine, dear. I'll see what I can do."

It was a start.